


Happens to the Best of Us

by brilliantdreams



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Erik Has Feelings, Erik is a Sweetheart, Gay Mutant Road Trip, M/M, Panic Attacks, Poor Charles, Protective Erik, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantdreams/pseuds/brilliantdreams
Summary: While out on the mutant roadtrip, Charles is past his limits and ends up spiralling into a panic attack. Erik helps him through it.





	Happens to the Best of Us

Erik knows something is wrong because the inside of his head feels like it's been abruptly doused in icy cold water. But he's standing in an elevator full of humans and it's unpleasantly close, and therefore warm as a result. So something is definitely wrong. And if it's not with him, there is only one other person it could be.  Erik suddenly becomes very aware of Charles, who is shoved hard against his side in the squash of bodies, beginning to tremble.

Oh no.

Charles' panic attack is in full swing by the time the throng of business men get out on their floor of the hotel, but he's been doing a very good job of keeping it under wraps. Because a panic attack unleashed in an elevator full of minds will be like a mass shooting. Ruined psyches all over the walls. As soon as they're gone, his control slips and the hyperventilating starts.   
  
Erik doesn't know what’s caused it, (it's likely the result of strain on Charles’ mutation though; he’s been past his limits for the last day and a half) but Erik knows a panic attack when he sees it. He's had his fair share. Charles, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have a clue about what's going on because he's wheezing " _Erik, Erik, Erik_ " between his laboured breaths, and has taken hold of Erik's hand so tightly it feels like his knuckles at rubbing together.

Charles' eyes are more blue than Erik has ever seen them, loaded with panic and fear, enormous under a trembling creased brow. The sight of him makes Erik's stomach drop sickly with grim sympathy.

"My heart,” Charles gasps, free hand grappling fistfuls of his cardigan over where his heart is no doubt trying to tear itself out of his chest. Charles’ mouth is wide open and he’s frightfully pale, the sweat he's broken into making his skin glazy and grey. “My heart,” he says again, voice like he’s drowning.

“Charles,” Erik says, squeezing the telepath’s hand hard and trying to sound comforting. “It’s alright, I promise you’re not having a heart attack. Hang on, we’re going back to the room right now. We'll be out of here soon, just hang on.”

All Charles can do is squeeze his eyes shut and hiss _“Erik, Erik, Erik”_ while they wait.

  
  
Erik practically carries Charles back to their room and as soon as the door is closed, Charles rounds on him and bursts into sobbing, noisy breaths.  
"Erik! I'm--! I'm--!" Erik nods at Charles, the gesture ridiculously exaggerated because, by now, Erik's feeling a bit shaky himself. It’s one thing to go through this yourself, another to watch on as someone else does. Curling up and waiting for it to pass doesn’t seem like a viable option for Charles.

"I know, Charles. I know.” The telepath now looks like he's going to vomit so Erik steps forward, palms out. He doesn't want to touch him because Erik knows touching is sometimes too much. But Charles is naturally tactile, seeks it out. So Erik comes a little closer, arms open; an invitation. 

"Charles," he calls tentatively. And Charles, who is hyperventilating so hard he's bobbing to the rhythm of it to stay standing, flings himself onto Erik's shoulders, a wretched sob escaping him somewhere in between his tearing breaths.

"My head--! I can’t--! Make it--! Make it stop! Erik! _Make it_ \-- _stop_!!"

Erik closes his arms around Charles, squeezing as tight as he dares while leaving enough room for the man to breathe.

Charles’ knees turn to water almost as soon as Erik fits his arms around him, sagging forward as gulping sobs wrack his small frame. Erik takes the other man's weight with a grunt, and lifts Charles to set him onto Erik's own feet. The height difference balances out a little to save their backs.

Charles is in the throes of it. Erik can feel the how heavily the other man's chest is pushing and shoving, reeling in and out as he gasps for air. He's going to pass out at this rate. Erik holds him tight, rubbing Charles’ back in sweeping motions.

He knows how frightening it is to not be able to get enough air. Just what you don’t need when your head is already spiraling out of your control.

“Charles,” Erik says, speaking loudly enough that he hopes Charles will hear him over all the noise he’s making. “Charles, let's breathe together. It'll make it a lot better. You match me, okay?”

In such a state, it’s not clear what level of input Charles is comprehending. But when he further tightens his already closer than comfortable grip around Erik's neck, Erik imagines maybe Charles has heard him. So he settles himself and draws up to his full height. The heels of the shoes atop his own rise up to leave Charles on his tiptoes.

“Okay, here we go. Breathe in.” Erik follows his own instruction, breathing in deep through his nose. He feels the other man lift against his chest as he fills his body with air. Charles seems to be taking a series of hitched, panting breaths, which will do him very little good yet, but it's a start. Erik continues to rub big circles over Charles’ back and shoulders while he breathes in as long and as deep as he can, setting an example for the other man. This all he can do.

“And breathe out,” Erik instructs faintly at the top of the breath. “Nice and slow…” The air leaves Erik with a purposefully loud, whooshing sound. Charles sobs out painfully alongside him.

“Very good,” says Erik kindly. “And in again.”

They go on for a while until Charles is matching Erik's breaths, even if his are still jerky and raw. Erik soothes a firm line across and then under Charles’ shoulder blades which are bunched tensely from panic and how hard he's holding onto Erik.

"Breathe through here, Charles.” He gives the man a gentle pat. “You’ve got all this room to breathe. Breathe all the way out against my hand."

They breathe in together, and then out. It's a little steadier this time. Erik begins to murmur to Charles, hoping his familiar voice, and the way he can feel it rumbling from his chest into Charles’ will help.

“You're here,” Erik begins. “Just let that sink in. You're not stuck or trapped and you can breathe much better now. You’re going to be alright. Focus on feeling out all the things that are real. Me. You. We're going to sort this out.” Erik isn’t sure what will help because he doesn’t know what the problem is. So he goes for reassurance and grounding. They seem like good choices for a panicked telepath. “We’re chest to chest right now,” he tells Charles. “You can feel me breathing. And your feet are on my feet, feel that?” He wriggles his toes for emphasis. “That's real. I'm here and you're here.”

Erik doesn't mind when Charles’ fingers file into his hair; anchoring himself, Erik suspects. Feeling for the realness Erik is talking about. He encourages it with an approving hum and a friendly pat amidst his ever circling back rubs. Charles’ fingers loosen Erik's hair where it’s longer on top, rummaging through and displacing it. Then they brush through short downy hair along his neck and behind his ears. And then from the top again.

Erik keeps talking, and they keep breathing.

By the time Erik has run out of generally reassuring nonsense, and has told Charles that, no matter how much his misfiring brain is telling him something bad is going to happen, Erik would never let it, Charles’ breathing has improved considerably. But he's sniffling between his ins and outs. One hand is still methodically carding through Erik's hair, and Erik can hear Charles’ teeth chattering in cold shock. He's clearly still totally miserable and very upset. Erik tugs Charles’ cardigan down where it's ridden up in the embrace, to keep Charles warm, and lets out a long sigh.

“What on Earth happened, _schatz_?” The endearment rolls off Erik's tongue by accident but Charles either hasn’t heard him or doesn’t mind as he settles more comfortably against Erik. Affection and sympathy for Charles washes through him and curls up snug in his chest, leaving Erik warm. A sensation that makes guilt stab through him, given how much Charles is suffering.

When Charles has given no indication he has heard, or plans on answering Erik, Erik shifts, moving to lean Charles back in his arms so he can look at the other’s face. But Charles won’t let him, immediately wreathing his arms even tighter, hunching his shoulders so high up that Erik’s mouth is pressed to the soft knit of his cardigan.

“Charles?”

There’s a long pause. Charles’ chest starts to flutter panickedly against Erik. Erik makes his back circles slow and firm. He presses the heel of his palm between Charles’ shoulder blades with purposeful pressure and Charles comes apart beneath it, relaxing until he’s slumped into Erik again rather than holding him captive.

“I’m scared if I let go, it’ll start again…” The voice that drifts out of Charles is broken and raw. 

“I know it feels that way, but I promise, it’ll be alright…” The man in Erik’s arms tenses hesitantly, unbelieving. Charles isn’t ready to let go, which Erik doesn’t mind, but his back is getting sore holding Charles’ weight. And Charles has been stretched out on his tip toes all this time which surely isn’t helping him. Erik listens to Charles’ breathing for a while before deciding that he’s probably mostly alright, just a little shaken still.

“Come on, I’m getting stiff,” huffs Erik, shuffling backward while Charles makes a surprised sound. His legs bump into the closest bed and since he can’t bend to sit, Erik gathers Charles close to him and then flops them sideways onto the mattress. Their tangled legs knock knees, and Charles is still clinging tight to Erik’s shoulders with his head now shoved a bit awkwardly between the mattress and Erik’s neck, but it’ll be comfortable enough. Erik wriggles around a bit and then resumes rubbing Charles’ back until he feels soft under his hands again.

It’s at this point that Erik realises that they are, in fact, lying down on a bed together. A very small part of him wants to be excited about this, but the rest of him which promptly stamps on the feeling, acknowledges that this doesn’t mean anything. This is just comfort for Charles.

Erik doesn’t think it’s a secret that he’s rather taken with Charles. The others know. Raven makes it her mission to waggle her eyebrows at Erik whenever he’s anywhere remotely near Charles, firmly solidifying Erik’s aversion to all other living beings. Aside from Charles, apparently.

And Charles has likely sensed Erik’s interest too. But Erik isn’t a child. He’s not one to wring his hands nervously, or pine. So he’s not pushed the matter, and he doesn’t intend to start now.

It wouldn’t be a good idea anyway.

True, being with Charles makes Erik feel less heavy than he has in years. Makes him feel like he’s thawing out, letting something very, dare he say it, _human_ unfurl inside him. Charles makes him want to indulge a sense of humour he didn’t know he had and throw caution to the wind; let himself be foolish just for fun!

But.

He has things he has to do, and he can admit that he cares too much about Charles to compromise the way they are now with getting too involved.

It’s an informed decision.

So he touches Charles as much as the other man touches him. And if the way Erik is drawn to Charles, the way he gives him attention freely, bothers Charles at all, then Charles is welcome to step away or speak up, and Erik will respect that. But so far, the two of them have cultivated nothing but a mutually respectful and affectionate relationship.

Charles is a grown adult. If this is okay with Charles, then it is, of course, okay with Erik. He will add ‘ _schatz_ ’ and cuddling when distressed to the list. Right after strip clubs together and chess til 2am.

After a long stretch of quiet, Erik feels Charles’ telepathy wandering to the edges of his mind; letting it off the tight leash that he maintains when it might prove dangerous for others.

_‘Do you mind?’_ he asks Erik telepathically.

_‘Of course not,’_ Erik replies immediately, but has to suppress his surprise when Charles opens the telepathic link between them. Where Charles consciousness is usually buttery and easy, it's now raw and rough like a scratchy jumper. Erik does his best not to mind the odd sensation, instead broadcasting feelings of safety and calmness as well as he knows how. There are a unique few minutes where, the only way Erik can describe it is that, it feels like Charles is collecting these sentiments and making himself a fort inside the solace of Erik’s own mind. It’s a strange non visual image. Usually, Charles tries not to expose him to much more than telepathic talking and gentle projection, but Erik is glad to feel useful.

“We can get that atrocious Chinese you like so much, if you want. I think they deliver,” Erik murmurs to the other man, deciding a change of topic is in order. He speaks aloud because their telepathic connection feels so unusual at the moment, but he can feel Charles’ interest like a bright pinprick in his mind and it makes him smile. Charles is always saying it’s Erik who is so blunt and straightforward, but Charles isn’t that complicated himself, really. Encouraged, Erik continues.

“The shower pressure isn’t too bad here either. You can shower while I phone it in. And then we can sit on the beds and eat. You will, of course, wear those ridiculous pajamas. And we’ll see if there’s a documentary of some sort on the television for you. That should make you feel better, I think. You’re just tired, is all.”

Charles is smiling into Erik’s neck. Even if Charles wasn’t freely projecting his amusement, Erik can feel it against his skin; the swell of Charles’ cheek at his throat. Erik blinks over Charles’ shoulder at the ugly curtains, and then feels embarrassment beginning to tinge that amusement now that Charles has climbed out of his panic. Waves of humiliated apologies suddenly lash between them but Erik shushes Charles, rubbing his shoulder and giving him a gentle squeeze.

“You’re alright, Charles. Happens to the best of us. ”

_‘You?’_ asks Charles into Erik’s mind, but Erik can sense Charles has probably already picked up the answer at some point during the evening.

“I am indeed the best of us,” he confirms teasingly.

_‘Sometimes bad things happen to good people,’_ Charles replies cordially, giving Erik his own pat on the shoulder.

Erik’s stomach flips over because, though Erik has never, and probably will never, regard himself as a ‘good person’, he’s a bit pleased that Charles seems to think he is.

They chat back and forth a little, Charles telepathically and Erik audibly, about a menu for dinner, and Erik toes off his shoes from where his feet are hanging off the side of the bed.  Soon enough, Erik can feel Charles smoothing out inside his mind. The uncomfortable jumper feeling eases away and when it feels like the spark has relit, making Charles’ consciousness warm and soft again, he gives a pleasant, grateful pulse and closes the connection to speak aloud.

“You know, Raven keeps telling me you’re nothing but a big softie. And I tell her she’s never seen you play chess, but she might be right.”

Erik frowns at the sentiment, and rolls more comfortably onto his back; though Charles remains tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“I’m a ruthless, obsessive Nazi hunter, Charles,” he replies shortly, caught somewhere between bitterness and pride at his grisly reality. The other man sits up a little so he can look at Erik, a hand laid on Erik’s chest to steady himself. Charles doesn’t seemed fussed about Erik’s arm still holding him at the waist. He settles against his side and Erik watches the other man consider him for a moment. Charles’ eyes are ringed with red but he’s regained some colour and looks much calmer now. Soon, he’ll be pink-flushed from a nice hot shower and struggling with chopsticks while he eats Chinese cross legged on the bed in the stuffiest checked pajamas known to both mutant and human kind alike.

It’s a good image.

“You can be both you know,” says Charles, looking at him, expression clear in its warmth. Erik feels his heart thud in response, right under Charles’ hand. “I can feel it in you. As important as your mission is to you, you have a rather profound protective streak, my friend.”

Erik starts at the idea which is both inconvenient and embarrassingly true if he’s honest. Which he isn’t.

“I do not.”         

“Then what do you call this?”                   

“This is… necessary,” Erik replies unconvincingly, and he can tell by how Charles is smiling at him that he isn’t fooling anyone. Charles looks like he wants to say more. Erik can feel it too; an eager press at his mental peripherals that Charles doesn’t even notice he’s doing. The professor apparently finds the idea of Erik’s savagery being all wrapped up in love and protectiveness of a truly fierce capacity, perfectly charming.

Erik doesn’t want to think about it.

Charles leans over him more fully and looks at him with serious eyes. This close, Erik can count the golden freckles splashed across the man’s nose. He ignores the way his heart is knocking on his ribcage.

“Erik,” says Charles softly. “I know you’re reluctant to be a part of all of this. To spend so much time with us and get too… attached.” Blue eyes flicker to Erik’s mouth for just a second and to Erik’s wonder, a gentle pink suffuses Charles’ cheeks while he speaks. “But you _are_ a good man. And if you ever decide that you want to pursue something more… _lasting_ , I’m completely, well...Here, I suppose.”

Charles lets this mull in the space between them while Erik stares at him without words, not trusting himself with an answer. He’s got an informed decision to stick to and he’s afraid he might say something very stupid.

When it becomes clear Erik has chosen not to say anything, Charles sits up stiffly, giving Erik a final pat on the chest. After smoothing over his rumpled cardigan, he gingerly tests his shoulders, rolling them with a wince and a little nod to himself which lets Erik know he’s thinking about that shower. He chances a quick glance back at Erik who is still lying down, before stretching out to snag the hotel telephone book.

“So… Chinese?”

Erik hauls himself upright, looks at Charles for another moment longer, and then reaches for the phone.

“Sure.”


End file.
